knowing that

tuesday morning i got to work before my dad. we drive separately on tuesdays because he goes to a workout group right after work. a few minutes after i arrived, my mom called.

"dad said he didn't tell you ... but ... we're putting pumba down this morning. i wanted you to know ... if you wanted to come"

i sat there. silently in shock at my desk.

"no ... i don't want to come. i want to say goodbye ... but i don't want to experience that again"

[about six years ago we put down bella (the dog my mom says was "the best dog we ever had). i was pretty young when we adopted her, but i remember wandering around the pound looking at dogs. she was the only dog there not barking, and when they brought her into the visiting room, she walked over to my mom, put her head on my mom's leg and looked up at her with those pleading eyes that only pound dogs have. she had gray fur around her mouth which made her look older than she was.

it is difficult to explain the connection you acquire with a dog.

she was my baby. when we moved to tucson and put in our pool, she couldn't be in the backyard when we were swimming because if she though you were underwater for too long and, therefore, in great danger, she would jump in to save you - even though she could barely swim.

we were her herd and she protected us. when we adopted patch, bella simply ignored patch's efforts to become the alpha dog. "this is my family," she seemed to say. "don't even try"

bella had always had this funny wheezy breathing condition. eventually, it became so bad we took her to the vet:

lung cancer

it got to the point that she could barely breathe, so we took her to the vet to have her put down. i sat on the floor and held her as she died. (it brings tears to my eyes even now)

after, i walked around and around the parking lot, trying to choke back tears and failing at it. my parents let me until i stopped crying and calmed down.

there are no words to describe the loss of a family member. even if it is out of kindness. even if it is to alleviate suffering. it still burns and aches and hurts. even if that family member is "just" a dog.

pumba was also a pound dog (always pound dogs in this family): a mutt dog that my mom walked past at one of those "adopt-a-pet" events at petsmart. we'd lost patch a year or so earlier. something about pumba - probably her teeth - caught mom's eye and she came home to pick me up to get my opinion. we brought pumba home with us that night.

and ... she was ridiculous. everything about her: her teeth; the random conglomeration of her body parts; the way her head looked more bear than dog; how she ran into walls; how she leaned into you; and moved so you would scratch her butt; how she cocked her head; and (my personal favorite) how if you hit just the right spot on her head she would bury her head in your lab and fall down onto you with her butt waving in the air - half broken tail wagging crazily.

but - she was overly protective. she would bark ferociously and ram herself against the front glass if anyone came to the door or walked by. occasionally it was more than just bark - she nipped at people sometimes. even bit a few.

my parents talked a lot about putting her down. but they always decided not to. in may, they decided that if there was another occurrence, they would end it.

when my dad's side of the family was visiting last weekend, pumba nipped at gramps. no apparent reason, unprovoked.

monday night, my mom said something about how they were going to have to put her down...

i didn't believe her.]

i hung up the phone, knowing i would go, but not wanting to. i need to say goodbye to her. i need for her to know that i never hated her and that i loved her and would never have done ... this.

my dad called. apologized for not telling me.

i got into the car, tears already streaming down my face and sent a text to brad: please call me when you get this.

forty minutes later i arrived at the pound - the pound we saved pumba from four or so years ago. my dad was outside with her, but i hardly even registered his presence and immediately wrapped my arms around pumba.

we probably waited forty minutes. i spoke to brad briefly, but mostly hugged pumba and held her as tightly as i could. choking back tears and trying to pour as much love as i could into her, so she would know that i loved her.

when they brought us in, the man (how awful to work in a pound) smiled at us.

"soooo ... a euthanasia"
"yes" my mom "she's a biter"
"better grab a muzzle then"

and he returned holding a muzzle. and placed it over pumba's mouth.

she looked up at me - for the first time her big brown eyes wary and scared. please don't leave me

and i buried my face in hers and cried.


then they took her away.

and she died alone. thinking her family had deserted and abandoned her. but, oh so much worse than that, we gave up on her.

and she died knowing that.